A Tale From the Blind Bog Ape Inn
A comfortable, homely tavern, the Blind Bog Ape serves as a gathering point for residents and visitors to the village of Moorgate. A few small tables, each large enough to fit five or six people, are scattered about the tavern's main room, and straw rushes are strewn on the floor. A warm fire burns in the wall just across from the door - a spit above it. The smell of sheep from outside is often dissipated in the inn by the smell of lamb roasting on the spit, crackling pleasantly. The innkeeper's bar runs nearby, and behind it are a variety of locally brewed ales, ready to be handed out, and milk and juices for the young ones. There's nothing truly fancy on the menu here. As the innkeeper says, one can go to the city if they want that. A terrifying bog ape stands by the door, mouth wide open to bare its fangs as it holds its hands up menacingly. A not-too-close look, however, will reveal that the ape must be stuffed. Two arrow shafts protrude from its eyes, rendering the monstrous creature helpless. Just beside the ape, a staircase winds up to the inn level of the tavern. ---- It is a good hour still before the hunt goes underway, but already people are gathering for it. Near the fire, a sizable group of hunters have gathered about the tables, sharing meals of mutton and ale. The nobility, and there are a few of them, largely Zahir, have taken the tables closest to the fire, and the veteran hunters are nearest them. Last of all are a few young striplings, trying their best to listen to the tales. Then there are two. Brand and a tall, strapping shepherd boy are near the door, the short redhead looking up at the stuffed bog ape. "So, who killed it, Iken?" he asks the shepherd boy. Esvan would be seated in that middle ground between the Zahirs and the veteran hunters. It's not hard to see why; he carries his own bow and quiver across his back, and though he isn't talking much he seems to be listening with great interest to all the chatter. A Valorian walks into a bar. You think he'd have seen it. Well, he did, in fact that's exactly what Karell is seeing right now. He moves through, attempting to find a place where he can swing his arms. "Well, from what my Pa told me," Iken says to Brand, thumping his chest. "'Twas the work of my great granpa. Best damn hunter who ever lived in Fastheld." Brand chuckles in amusement at that. "Imagine he must have been," he says with a wink. "Or really, really good at faking people out and sticking those in the eyes after death." He playfully ducks under the bigger boy's swing. Esvan seems to find swinging arms a combat hazard; he shifts position, such that a few people can converse more quietly ...between him and the new Valoria, though the boy does still watch with curious eyes. There are several gathered here now, despite the fact that it's a little early yet. Nobles are gathered near the fire, followed by the senior hunters, and striplings behind them. Esvan is sitting at the bottom of the 'noble pecking order' while Karell has just entered, swinging his arms. By the door, Brand has just ducked /another/ swinging arm, this time of a tall shepherd boy. "Ha, Brand! My great granpa would never lie," he says, though he's grinning. Brand's grin is more teasing. "Of course not!" Karell glances sideways down to the boy Esvan, raising an eyebrow as he passes on his way to take up more space by the fire. He murmurs something under his breath, looking back to the rest of the tavern quizically. Esvan isn't the only Zahir to find a lone Valoria sitting so blithely in their midst amusing; there's a ripple of quiet laughter before conversaions resume. Esvan gets up, though, and goes to a seat where he can keep an eye on the scuffle Brand's in. Yet another noble enters the tavern at this time. Not a Zahir or a Valoria, but a Lomasa - the Baroness Lorana Lomasa, to be exact. She is heavily armed and armored, and wears a bright grin as emerald eyes look about the place. She begins working her way towards the fire, murmuring polite pardons to any she inadvertently bumps into. "Well... this is /quite/ unseemly." Karell manages, after a moment, before AHA, Lorana gets his attention immediately and he bows as she approaches. The scuffle continues a few moments longer, before Iken gets his arm around Brand's neck, pulling the teen into a headlock as he gives him a rough noogie. "Say you're the son of a bog ape," he insists with a grin. Laughing, Brand responds, "Never!" At the table, a few of the Zahir nobles stir a little more, grinning broadly at the sight of a Valoria /and/ a Lomasa. And a pretty Lomasa at that. Esvan is, however, mostly watching the scuffle - not with urgency, but just...carefully. Not unlike a chef studying a thermometer, waiting for a particular threshold. Lorana returns the Valoria's bow as well as her armor will let her. "Good evening, my Lord," she greets brightly, "How fare? Are you here to try your hand at taking down a bog ape, or is it by pure coincidence?" "Good evening!" Karell replies with a smile, "No, no... I am here on a purely research basis." a grin is quipped, "To find out how best to entertain others, I suppose." The scuffle continues a bit more, before Brand switches to dirty tactics. There's a hand, it's near his mouth. A chomp, and an exclamation of, "Ouch!" and Brand scrabbles free of Iken, grinning broadly as he retreats toward Esvan, as if for protection. Iken waves a fist at him, but it's not so horribly threatening. Esvan grins at this display, and notes the addition of the ...rather armored... Lomasa with somewhat puzzled curiosity. "Getting drunk usually helps," Lorana provides to the Valoria lightly, "Although I suppose it depends on whether you want them to laugh with your or at you." She chuckles a bit, before glancing over to the scuffle curiously. "Young people these days," she remarks, "They wouldn't know how to roughhouse properly if they were given free lessons." As for Esvan? He gets a small bow as the Lomasa notices him looking at her. "Oh really?" Karell asks, and seems to make a mental note of that fact with a nod. "Taverns are usually provided for that." The tavern is getting crowded now as more and more hunters come rolling in making their way to take seats by the fire. The most prominent, the nobility, have taken the tables near the fire, while the senior and junior hunters have arranged their own pecking order. Where Karell and Lorana fit into this is anyone's guess - neither of them have taken a seat, and they are talking together. Brand is standing behind Esvan, sticking his tongue out at a tall, strapping shepherd. "Shouldn't you be explaining all that's going on, Iken?" Esvan slants an amused look at Brand. "You should behave," he says lightly. "At least a little bit. You've been to this before. I think I missed it." Blackfox slips tentatively inside, looking about uneasily, the diminutive huntress looking like the tourist she truly is. She pauses at the door to look curiously at the bog ape, studying it from different angles and stepping close to examine its claws and teeth. Lorana nods to Karell, before looking around a bit more. She crosses her steel-plated arms and keeps her attention on the commotion so she will notice if and when it changes. "Hmm." Karell manages, "Shall we take a seat?" he offers to the Lomasa. Brand gives Esvan a small, very fake pout, before he nods. "Of course, my Lord," he says as he takes a seat. He spots Blackfox, and waves to her. "Hello! Iken's great granpa faked that one!" Esvan looks ceilingward with a laugh. "See if I let *you* have any wine," he says - though not loudly - as he finds a new seat. "So how does this go?" Blackfox looks over at Brand, blinking in confusion, "Faked?" she asks as she takes a few steps closer to the man. "That sounds like a good idea," Lorana replies to the Viscount with a nod and a smile. Emerald eyes search for a suitable place to sit, the Baroness's attention staying mostly on the people around her. Karell moves back and pulls a table away from one of the walls, looking around for adequate seating before pulling a chair away from an already populated table and holding it out for the lady to sit. "Lords and Ladies!" Iken calls out, clapping his hands together. "Masters and Mistresses. Scums of the earth called Brand Heartwood." This earns him a quick sticking out of the tongue from the named one. "First of all, you should know that Brand Heartwood is a horrible, no good liar. Secondly welcome, one and all, to the Blind Bog Ape hunt. I'll explain to all of you what we're doing this evening." Esvan narrows his eyes at Iken. His tone quite polite and perfectly calm, and somehow nevertheless pleasantly lethal, he says, "Are you questioning my judgment? Please leave your personal concerns out of the explanation." A slanted, sharp look at Brand carries a very stern implication that good behavior is emphatically requested. Blackfox falls quiet then, as if her one word question had been her being very talkative, looking to Iken for direction. Lorana takes the offered seat with a word of thanks, before turning her full attention to Iken. She smirks at Esvan's reaction to the shepherd's 'announcement', but says nothing. Standing behind Lorana's seat with one hand still placed on the back, Karell leans forward and raises an eyebrow at the short speech. He remains silent, watchful. "Oh, apologies, my Lord," Iken says with a bow of the head to Esvan. "In any case, the rules are pretty simple. We're breaking you up into teams, and setting you out into the moors. You don't have to catch a bog ape, they're very dangerous, but bringing one in is an automatic win. Barring that, the one who brings in the biggest catch wins." Brand, for his part, gives Esvan an /innocent/ smile. Esvan gives Brand a pointed nudge, and a very ...teenaged... '*not* buying it, you know' look, before returning his attention to Iken. Blackfox moves a bit closer, still listening, tho' she frowns at the mention of not needing to bring in an ape. Lorana raises a hand and asks, "How will the teams be decided?" Karell remains quiet. Iken extends his hand, in which are several straws. "We all draw straws," he says cherfully. "The ends are dyed. Find those who have the same color straw as you." The hunters all get up, heading over to the shepherd boy. Brand, however, stays down. "I think I'll be waiting in the village." Esvan nods. "I will see what I bring back," he says, and goes to draw a straw. The end is red, and he steps back to let others draw. "What is the prize?" Fox asks shyly, sounding more curious than greedy or eager. Lorana rises to choose her own straw. Red. She 'hms' softly to herself and steps back, waiting for everyone to make their selections. Karell stands back for the while, watching everyone take their straws before leaning over and peering at Lorana, "What, oh what color are you?" he asks. All the straws but one are handed out, and this one Iken gives to Blackfox. Red, just like Karell's. "The winning team gets a feast in their honor," Iken says with a broad grin. "And one of you gets to bring home the stuffed trophy. It isn't much, but it's the honor of winning that people come for." Blackfox nods, "Aye, I did not realize there was to be a winner and was surprised when you said as much," she replies quietly. "I was but curious as to how these beasts compare to mankiller bears or the great silver apes of the Verdigris." She peers down at the stick, noting the color and peering about, looking a bit uneasy as she counts the red splashes of color held by the nobles in the room. Esvan grins at this. "A bog ape in the parlor. Marchioness Voreyn will *faint*." He sounds pleased at the prospect. "Red," Lorana replies to Karell brightly, showing off her straw, "And it looks as though you've drawn red as well." The Baroness grins, before emerald eyes seek out more red straws, "Looks like... the young Lord over here and the woman over there are to be in our team as well. Do you see any others, my Lord?" "But..." Karell glances down to the straw that was handed to him, "I don't think I've ever seen a bog ape." he mutters, "Not even on someone's wall." It's a rather wistful tone, and the noble doesn't appear to have a clue what's going on. "This is one right here, my Lord," Iken says cheerfully, thumping the chest of the stuffed ape with arrows in its eyes. "Won't necessarily find one, though. Probably won't. Ready to go?" Brand, for one, nods, hopping up. "I'll head out with you to the start point," he tells Esvan. "Be safe out there." And with that he, Iken, and the other hunters start funneling out. ---- The Hedgehem Moor is a vast expanse of mostly barren land where little but scrub and sedge can thrive and grow. The ground rises and falls like swells upon the sea, covered in grass and heather that is often shrouded in a still, low lying mist. But the moor can be deceptive, the ground beneath often soaked through with water so that what appears to be a solid surface is truly bog and mire beneath that leeches the nutrients from the soil. However, despite all this, sometimes one can find human settlement, Freelanders and nobles who attempt to eke out an existence in the hilly grasslands. One of the more successful of such attempts sits here, the tall, darkstone Moorgate Stronghold, as well as the small village that sits near its walls. The keep itself often serves as a meeting point for noble hunters, but more importantly it is large enough to hold the entire village within its walls if necessary. Moorgate Village itself is a tiny village of no real fame or size – less than a hundred individuals reside within its wooden palisade. Early every morning, the village men can be seen driving their sheep from their pens, to graze in the hills, and every evening they bring them back in, often with a few cuts and bruises. The Moor continues as far as the eye can see, the monotonous landscape broken only by the treeline of Emberfall Copse to the north. ---- Blackfox follows along, obviously puzzled, "You do not expect to find any?" she asks quietly. Outside the village, the hunters are all breaking off into their own parites, slipping off into the darkness. Brand and Ike hang back by the gates, watching. "Hmm. Hope they come back fine." Esvan takes out his bow - not a sturdy warbow, but something a bit lighter, suiting the boy's size and age. "I hope I find one. My cousins have all the fun," he says, scanning the moors with a familiar eye. "You can tell the man you're not interested, or you can come along for the trip," Lorana says to the Valoria brightly, "The choice is yours, of course, my Lord." She grins and then makes for the others with the red straws. She looks to Blackfox, then. "Bog apes are exceedingly rare," she explains simply, "Finding one is akin to... Finding a mudbear in the middle of Light's Reach." She pulls out one of her throwing axes and twirls it in her hand absently. "Oh, I should follow and see what this is about, I have not been hunting in... in almost 12 years." Karell replies to Lorana, "That was with my brother, before he joined the Blades." He moves along with red squadron, and it's obvious from the way he follows and the incredulous expression on his features that he considers himself more of an observer, then an active participant. "Ah," Fox says with an understanding nod, "Have any of you ever seen one before? Or know what terrain they favor? What they eat? If they are known to travel alone or in packs?" Esvan tests his bowstring, then the draw, and then starts inspecting his arrowshafts. "They're very big. Like big big hairy...people with claws. But not werewolves," he adds firmly. "Alone or family groups, but I don't know anyone who's actually *seen* a family of them up close. They get protective." Lorana grins to Karell with a nod, "Good to have you along, then, my Lord." She continues to twirl her axe, letting the hunters collaborate. She's not there to track, she's just there to hurt things. Karell smiles meekly in retort, watching that axe twirl for a moment before discreetly shaking his head and moving on, also letting the hunters do what they must. He's not there to track, he's just there to look sexy. The other groups have all disappeared by now. "If they are like the silver apes," Blackfox muses, heading off into the night, "Then they are territorial, tho' that territory can be huge. Still, if we can find it, I can most likely track them to where they are now." Esvan makes a face, wrinkling his nose. "I've *seen* them. From a distance. But I haven't tried *shooting* any. That's why I came. I wanted to hear what the hunters had to say about it." He points into the moors. "There's water that way. Tracks might be in the mud still. We had rain a day or two ago." The Lomasa follows along with the hunters seeming rather pleased to be out hunting for large dangerous creatures. Blackfox nods as she follows Esvan's lead, moving to where the grass begins to soften and the mud ground is damp and muddy. She frowns as she focuses, keeping low to the ground as she bends now and then to let her fingers trail over some broken weeds or the edges of some imprint or other. "Here," she calls over softly, gesturing forward and to the left, "They travel that way." ---- There are places on the moors where the rainwaters collect, leaving the soil waterlogged year round and letting plant growth rise and fall swiftly. The bogs of Hedgehem Moor are these famous places, where many a traveler has been lost. This particular bog is set in a depression in the ground, and is covered almost all over with a thick layer of moss. A stream of mirky brown water does run through it, however, and several insects that make use of it make the bog slightly more irritating than it would normally be. Making it even worse, however, is that the ground quakes beneath footsteps, and particularly large motions can even make a few of the trees around the edges of the bog quiver. According to local lore, places like this are where the bog apes roam, and at night, any strange noise out on the moors is often attributed to them. -- Nighttime in the bogs, the four moons shining down onto the layers of peat. Whatever tracks were found, they disappear as one enters the water itself. To be certain, there might be other signs... Somewhere, deep in the bog, something howls. It isn't human, but it's not quite animal, either. Esvan nods, bow at the ready as he follows. "They're *big*," he reminds, very quietly, listening to the sound. Lorana stops twirling her axe and grips it tightly, pulling another from her belt as she hears that howl. The Lomasa remains verbally silent, although her full-plate probably doesn't lend the group much in the way of stealth. Blackfox nods as she slips into the shadows, bow in hand, keeping low as she continues to follow the trail to the waters edge. She looks up at the howl, "Is that what they sound like?" she asks softly, "Or is something else out here?" "Is that something we recognize?" Karell asks, looking between Blackfox and Esvan. His pace slows. No more howls come, but there are other sounds. Insects buzzing through the bog, mosquitoes, and the occasional splash of something moving through the murky brown waters in the distance. Esvan just nods to Blackfox. "That's them." The noblewoman remains still, attempting to keep her clanking at a minimum. Lorana's only movement is the slow turning of her head, emerald eyes seeking the source of those sounds. Blackfox lifts her head, checking the evening breeze, "We do not wish to arrive from upwind of them," she cautions, "I have seen the tracks of but one, but I do not know if he is still alone." With a feverous lick of his lips, Karell reaches back and - just out of safety - pulls his bow from his shoulder. He tests it, remaining silent. The splashing in the waters comes closer, and on the edge of vision, the perceptive might see a hulking shape, moving through the bogs. Esvan is evidently a bit nervous - hearing splashing, he fires an arrow toward the sound...without having any idea what's making said sound. Lorana quirks a brow at the shot, before leaning towards the young Zahir. "It's over there," she whispers, pointing to where she can see a hulking shadow and not much more of it. She keeps her axes to herself for the moment, uncertain of whether that form is actually what they're hunting. Blackfox has an arrow set to the string, sighting down the shaft as she locks on the target, "He will defend his territory fiercely," she warns, the string of her hornbow thrumming in the night as the arrow flies. "I don't blame him." Karell replies lightly, knocking his own bow and firing a shot at the hulk. "Mrraooo-ACK!" is heard from a corner of the swamp, as Esvan's arrow ends some unlucky life. More effective, perhaps, are the two arrows shot by Blackfox and the nobleman. The beast moves fast, but Blackfox's arrow hits it in the arm, while Karell's smacks its torso. A pained, enraged howl is let loose, and the bog ape turns, charging straight for the group. It's clear to see now, humanoid, but covered with hair, with yellow fangs and claws. It lunges forward, ready to tear. Esvan is more than willing to take direction - and when the thing comes into view starts backing up, letting the melee sorts charge in and firing another arrow with hopefully better success. Lorana raises her throwing axes to try and fend off the beast's claw, but is too slow. They rend into armor and the Lomasa flinches in pain. "I /like/ this armor," she grunts, dropping those axes to pull a much, much larger weapon from her backhanger baldric - the battle axe known as the Bull's Horn. With a mighty heave and an angry growl, the noblewoman steps towards the creature and swings the heavy weapon to try and cleave into the beast. No, she doesn't seem to care about preserving it for stuffing. Blackfox keeps moving, keeping distance between her and her target, another arrow following the first. She says nothing, keeping quiet in the dark, listening for signs that the beast wasn't alone as she fires off another shot. "Stay beside me, master!" Karell says to Esvan with a worried expression, already firing a second shot at the beast. Lorana's swing falls rather short, and Karell's arrow, while clipping a few hairs, does no damage. However, the howl the bog ape releases as Blackfox and Esvan's arrow slam into its chest and shoulder is rending. The beast is in pain, with blood spilling from its body. Still, it fights on, unwilling to give up as it tries to take a bite out of Lorana. Esvan backs up steadily, the motions of archery practiced and smooth. But there's still presence of mind enough to snarl, "*Baron*," at Karell, even as he makes the bog ape the target of his anger. Caught in an awkward position, those teeth sink into her armored shoulder with a distinctive metallic -skree-. "GAH!" The Lomasa pulls away and swings again, trying to get the infernal beast OFF OF HER! A third arrow is pulled from Blackfox's quiver, almost before the second one strikes home. Nocking the black and green fletched shaft, she calmly takes aim, trying to get into a position to have the ape's back to minimize her risk of hitting Lorana as she fires again. "And the good it will do when you are dead, if you don't do as said." Karell replies flatly, with no hint of patience. Again, he fires his bow. This time? This time Karell's arrow strikes home, lodging itself in the beasts shoulder, only shortly followed by Esvan's own. The bog ape pulls back from Lorana, and this time, it's cry sounds almost like a sob. It's hurt. Bad. And it wants to get those that got it. It pulls away from Lorana now, and instead rushes toward... Karell, claws raking. Esvan doesn't argue...but he does smile as the ape decides to swipe at Karrel instead. It might have affected his aim somewhat, even as he keeps backing away from the creature's claws. "Hey!" Lorana barks at the creature, trying to get between it and the Viscount, "Oh no you don't! Come nibble on the big meaty Lomasa some more, you hairy bastard." Regardless of her positioning she takes another swing at the creature, sweeping the massive battle axe around to try and actually /hit/ the bog ape. Blackfox shakes her head as she listens to the exchange between the two men, taking another shot as she continues to circle around and keep her distance. Ducking back from the poorly aimed swipe, the Viscount's bow drops into the mud as his focus falls on fending it off. A shining crystal blade flicks upwards from his hip, slicing for whatever part of the beast it left open. The beast stumbles as it tries to open a few new holes for Karell, but his dagger does nothing. The ape is able to escape that and stumble back a few steps... and right into Lorana's axe, just before Esvan's arrow hits it in the side. Moaning, the beast stumbles to its knees, still alive, but only barely - it's too injured to even attack. Esvan just nocks, aims, and fires - aiming for as clean a death as one can manage under the circumstances. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Lorana groans irritably at her shoulder and then looks to the others. "My Lords, Mistress... everyone all right?" Blackfox nods in answer to Lorana, an arrow still made ready to fire as she turns in a slow circle, watching and listening for signs of further trouble. "Asks the one half eaten." Karell remarks with a nod, "We are all fine, physically. Light," he picks up his bow and moves towards Lorana, "Are you okay?" The bog ape appears to be quite definitely dead. There are no signs of anything else approaching. Esvan lowers his bow, to come and study the creature now it's safely not moving. "...Definitely more trouble than mudbears," he muses. "I think we need to keep them rare. Maybe we can set a good prize for this hunt, in future." "I'm fine," Lorana replies, knocking gauntleted knuckles against her breastplate with a soft -clunk- sound, "I wear this for a reason. My injuries are mild." She puts axe back into her baldric and starts searching the muck for those throwing axes she dropped earlier. "Do you truly intend to stuff this like the one in the tavern?" Blackfox asks, disapproval in her quiet tone. "What would you do with it?" Karell asks, sounding curious. Esvan eyes it. "I don't know that a taxidermist could make it presentable," he says. "But if one can, then I'm going to surprise the Marchioness with it if no one else wants it." Lorana chuckles at Esvan, "Have fun with that, my Lord." She manages to find one of the lost axes, but the other is buried in the muck. Lorana wipes the recovered weapon off and tucks it back into her belt, before remarking, "If it can't be stuffed, I might be interested in its hide. Likely valuable considering how rare the creature is, and animal hides can be made into all sorts of useful things. But again, assuming it can't be used for the young Lord's entertainment." "I would skin it," Blackfox nods, "Carve the meat and liver and salt and smoke it for winter stores. I would take the gut and clean it to trade to the instrument makers, and take its claws and teeth to trade to jewelers." "Aye." Karell nods to Blackfox, "I imagine you would." Esvan pokes it. "You are a very strange person, Wildlander," he decides, musingly. "To come all the way from the Wildlands to shoot at something you've never seen before, and then make sure you never see most of it again." He puts away his bow, and picks up a paw, looking to start hauling the thing. "Regardless, it's going to take all of us just to get this back to the village. They might have some ways of cooking the meat. They're probably glad it's not going to eat the sheep." Back to Season 7 (2008) Category:Logs